Li Daoxuan said calmly, "A passerby? Why—can a passerby not bestow a reward? Must it always be a master, or a boss, or someone sitting on a throne?"
At the word passerby, Lao Huihui's expression stiffened slightly.
Li Daoxuan's tone shifted, becoming more deliberate. "A young man once wrote a line of poetry: 'The rise and fall of the world concerns every common man.' I find great truth in those words. I am but an ordinary man myself, yet I believe that every individual bears responsibility for what happens in this world."
Lao Huihui snorted. "So just showing up and tossing me a reward counts as taking responsibility for the world's affairs?"
Li Daoxuan chuckled lightly. "To ignore good deeds is wickedness. To leave evil unpunished is also wickedness. Therefore, to reward the virtuous and punish the wicked—that, in itself, is doing good for the world. Would you not agree?"
Lao Huihui fell silent.
He pondered.
This time, he had to admit that Li Daoxuan's words carried reason.
But then Li Daoxuan continued, his tone shifting once more. "That said, in giving you these provisions, I do have one small condition."
Lao Huihui sneered. "Ah. So all that came before was merely groundwork. All that talk of rewarding virtue and punishing vice—empty words. I knew there would be a condition in the end. That's how proper transactions work. Speak. Given a ship full of grain like this, as long as your demand isn't outrageous, I might consider it."
Li Daoxuan said evenly, "My condition is simple. From this day onward, you must maintain strict discipline within your ranks. You are not to harm the common people. Furthermore… you are not to associate with those scoundrels who brutalize the populace. If you can uphold this, I will guarantee a steady supply of grain. But if you fail—"
He deliberately stopped there, leaving the rest unsaid.
The unspoken consequences loomed heavily in the air.
Lao Huihui understood perfectly what those unfinished words implied.
And so, he chose not to hear them.
After a moment, he muttered, "As long as the grain keeps coming, why would I bother stealing bark and roots from the mouths of common folk? That condition, I can accept. As for refusing to associate with certain people…"
He cast a sharp glance toward the south. "Are you trying to sow discord among us?"
Li Daoxuan replied calmly, "Is this sowing discord? Do you truly believe you and that rabble can coexist?"
Lao Huihui stiffened.
He remained silent.
That silence was itself an admission.
He clearly understood that Li Daoxuan was speaking the truth—but he refused to respond to such an obvious attempt at division.
Li Daoxuan waved a hand. "Enough staring. Move the grain."
Lao Huihui shot Li Daoxuan a long, complex look, his emotions unreadable. Then he raised his hand and gestured.
His heavy cavalry dismounted and strode toward the cargo ship.
At the bow of the ship stood a strange device, quietly filming everything. The cavalrymen glanced at it only briefly before ignoring it. They had no idea what it was, and since it clearly wasn't a cannon, there was nothing to fear.
Soon, basket after heavy basket of grain was unloaded.
"It's really all grain!"
"Boss, this will last us at least several months!"
"Fine white flour—top quality!"
"And rice!"
"Huh? What's this?"
A heavy cavalryman picked up a square bamboo box. Three neatly written characters were inscribed on the lid:
Luncheon Meat.
Jiang Cheng recognized it instantly and nearly leapt out of his skin.
He rushed forward, practically vaulting onto the ship, snatching the bamboo box back in a panic. "Ah—my deepest apologies!" he said hurriedly. "This item isn't meant for you. It was accidentally mixed in with the cargo."
The cavalryman froze, utterly confused.
A few seconds later, he sniffed the scent lingering on his hands, and realization dawned on him. "This… is pork."
It turned out that when the Gao Family Village Militia had loaded the grain, they had done so out of habit, packing luncheon meat as if provisioning their own comrades.
But Muslims did not eat pork.
Sending pork to Muslims was not goodwill—it was provocation.
Jiang Cheng flushed red with embarrassment and immediately ordered his men to move all the baskets containing luncheon meat deep into the cargo hold.
This small but telling gesture did not escape Lao Huihui's sharp eyes.
Up until now, his expression had been stern, even distant. Yet at this moment, his mood visibly softened.
It was obvious this had been an unintentional mistake, not an insult meant to be magnified. Their swift effort to correct it demonstrated sincere respect for Muslim dietary customs.
To respect someone's food customs was, at its core, to respect the person.
And for those long regarded as "barbarians" by the Han people, receiving such respect carried extraordinary significance.
Lao Huihui spoke, his voice now carrying a hint of magnanimity. "It's quite alright. We are not so rigid. My army isn't composed solely of Muslims—we have many other ethnic groups among us, including Han people. This pork can be given to them."
He paused, then performed a deep, formal bow toward Li Daoxuan. "In a year of such terrible famine, your willingness to provide even meat is a kindness bestowed by heaven. How could I possibly be so petty as to resent that the meat happens to be pork?"
Li Daoxuan smiled gently.
Lao Huihui turned and barked at his men, "What are you all gawking at like startled pheasants? This is the Central Plains—Han people are everywhere. Is pork really so strange here? Carry it all back for our brothers from the other tribes! Damn it, it's a famine year—stop being so picky, or you'll truly starve!"
The heavy cavalrymen, faces flushed with embarrassment, quickly suppressed their aversion and resumed unloading the cargo.
Before long, the ship was completely emptied.
Lao Huihui had no carts prepared, so he simply ordered each cavalryman to shoulder a heavy pack. In a blink, all the provisions were secured to their horses.
He clasped his fists toward Li Daoxuan in salute. "For today's great generosity, I, Lao Huihui, will not forget it."
Li Daoxuan waved his hand dismissively. "Go. No need for ceremony. Stay in touch when the opportunity arises."
Lao Huihui tugged on his reins, turned his horse, and rode off.
The heavy cavalry followed, wheels turning as one. With a thunderous roar of hooves, they vanished from sight in moments.
Jiang Cheng stared in the direction they had gone and murmured, "They're heading toward Xingyang. I've heard that place is currently a hornet's nest of bandits."
"Indeed," Li Daoxuan said thoughtfully. "The seventy-two rebel forces are all converging there. The so-called Xingyang Conference is imminent. But in truth, there's nothing to discuss. A crowd of bandit chiefs will gather, pretend to deliberate, and in the end… they'll still scatter to plunder. No novelty at all."
Jiang Cheng stared, stunned.
Suddenly, realization struck him.
The Dao Xuan Tianzun was revealing a divine secret—foretelling the rebels' future actions.
Lowering his voice, he asked, "Then… what places will they plunder next?"
Li Daoxuan smiled faintly, a strange glint in his eyes. "They'll dig up ancestral tombs."
Jiang Cheng gasped. "What?!"
He couldn't understand it at all.
But divine secrets were never easy for mortals to grasp. Jiang Cheng did not dare press further, choosing instead to ponder the words in silence.
Li Daoxuan said simply, "Let's return."
The group boarded the cargo ship.
The vessel that had arrived heavy with provisions was now empty, light and swift.
They had only sailed a short distance when a medium-sized cargo ship appeared ahead, heading straight toward them. It rode high on the water, clearly empty—having completed its trade and now returning home.
Li Daoxuan paid it no attention.
But Jiang Cheng frowned slightly. "Something's not right about that ship," he said quietly.